The Desert Hitch
by unprettier
Summary: Dean Ambrose and Renee Young pick up a hitchhiker while traveling through the Nevada desert. But everything is not as it seems and their innocent ride quickly turns deadly. Inspired by the 2007 remake of the movie The Hitcher.
1. The Lonesome Road

**Author's Note:** Shout out to _Tori of Lorien_ because her awesome scary wrestling fics inspired me to write this one! Go check out her stuff as soon as you can because it's all great!

This story is also heavily inspired by The Hitcher (2007), as I mentioned in the summary. I thought that was the perfect horror movie to incorporate here since wrestlers have to travel all the time. I mean, they're bound to encounter a hitchhiker eventually, right? Especially in the desert, in the middle of nowhere... And since Dean and Renee live in Las Vegas, who better than to center the story around?

 **A/N PS:** I will admit right now that I don't know anything about LV or its geography so please excuse any errors in that regard. Thank you!

* * *

There was something cathartic about driving in the desert.

Dean Ambrose didn't quite understand what it was or even why it made him feel that way. All he did know was that gliding down those long, flat roads right before the day began caused him to feel a level of peace he would otherwise never experience. It also caused him to become incredibly drowsy. Or at least worsened the drowsiness he was already feeling.

The morning sun eventually made its debut, casting an orange glow over the dusty, Nevada desert and a black silhouette on its distant mountains. Dean used his free hand to shield his eyes from the rays but he made no effort to permanently protect them from the brightness. The sun visor that hung right above him was still folded up and his sunglasses were still attached to the top. He didn't reach for either one of them. Right now that sunlight was the only thing still keeping him awake so he decided then and there that he would rather have the sun blind him a little than fall asleep at the wheel. To anyone else, one seemed no safer than the other but impaired vision was better than no vision in Dean's mind.

He cast a glance towards his sleeping companion. She was turned slightly toward him, her body curled up as much as she could manage with what little room she had in the passenger seat. A few blonde curls dangled in front of her face until he swept them behind her ear and despite his touch she didn't stir awake. He knew it would probably take a lot more than that to lull her from her deep slumber, especially if she was as tired as he was.

His bleary eyes fixated back on the road. He knew he had to do something to keep himself alert. If she wasn't awake to talk his ear off and keep him from surrendering to unconsciousness, he would have to try to keep his eyes open the old fashioned away. It was nothing, he concluded, that a good amount of Billy Idol wouldn't be able to take care of.

His fingers reached for the stereo, careful not to disturb his girlfriend as she slumbered. But once he pressed the power button, a deafening blare from the speakers shot from all sides of the rental car, and his attempts at controlling the volume were futile. Renee had instantly jolted awake.

"Fuck," he grumbled, managing to get the volume down to a comfortable level far too late, "I'm sorry, Ren!"

Renee waited for her heart rate to slow before she responded to him. Of all the ways he chose to wake her up that was now at the very bottom of her list. She much preferred the one at the top but there was no way that was even possible while they were in a car and he was driving. She relaxed back into her seat once the sudden shock subsided and decided against retaliating.

"What time is it?"

"I don't know," he shrugged so he just took a guess. "6:30? 7?"

Renee reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. The time displayed on the screen gave her an unsatisfactory answer so she threw it into the console next to his own. There was a thump when she leaned back in her seat this time. It was way too early for this. She planned on sleeping until he was carrying her inside their apartment and placing her in their warm bed like a parent would carry their sleeping child after a long car ride. But according to her phone it had only been an hour since she fell asleep and two since they left their hotel.

"It's 10 to 6," she finally muttered, reaching towards the cup holder for a cup of coffee that wasn't there.

 _Coffee_ , Dean thought to himself, as he watched her fall disappointed in the absence of the beverage. That was a good idea. The only problem was finding a place to get some. But there was no chance of that considering they were currently in the middle of the desert with nothing else in sight.

Renee rubbed the remnants of sleep from her eyes as she stared out of the window. She didn't notice it until now but their surroundings definitely didn't look right. She hadn't lived in Nevada with him for very long but from all the times she'd traveled back there with him by car, they never came through this way. This didn't even look like the part of the desert they would go to hike or mountain bike or just spend time with each other.

She slowly turned back to look at her boyfriend, who could feel her eyes on him the moment she started to stare.

"Renee—" he began but she brought her hand up to silence him.

"We're lost, aren't we?"

He sighed. The rental car's GPS stopped working about an hour back but he knew that was no excuse. Renee specifically explained to him how to get to the highway before she fell asleep and he didn't listen. But that wasn't his fault! She made the mistake of trying to give him the directions while she was in the midst of changing clothes so her speaking was the last thing he was focusing on.

"You have the directions. You fell asleep!"

Renee's mouth fell open. "What about ' _Don't worry, Ren_ ,'" she said and he recognized the voice she was using as the one she always used whenever she attempted to mock him, "' _I'll drive this time. You just rest_.'"

He wasn't sure if she was seriously mad, joking, or a little bit of both but he started laughing all the same. He couldn't help it though. Her impression of him was just really terrible. He considered, if only for a moment, doing his own impression of her but he decided that was a battle best left uninitiated.

"I'll get us home," said Dean, "Don't worry."

His reply was met with nothing but a loud sigh. Silence followed, until she decided to curse his ex-Shield brother out of nowhere some few minutes later, "Fuck Seth Rollins and the company jet."

Dean looked over at her as he started to laugh again. She was pouting, her bottom lip sticking out in such a cute fashion that he wished he wasn't driving so he could grab it with both of his own. He didn't bother considering that thought any further though. He couldn't afford to be distracted right now so he just asked her, "Where did that come from?"

"Did you see him bragging about using it on Twitter?" Renee had no idea why she was asking that from the man who never used the internet for anything other than shopping and something nowhere near as innocent. "He was bragging about using it on Twitter."

"And this bothers you because?"

"He can make it home in hours. We have to drive around like this for days."

That was obviously an exaggeration but it still sucked all the same.

Dean just shrugged. "Those are the perks of being the champ."

He pretended like that statement was nothing but of course there was a bit of envy deep down inside him somewhere. He didn't know what being the champ was actually like. There were quite a few times he almost realized his dream but he never did. The closest he'd ever been was when he stole the title and got to parade it around New Orleans for a bit but it was still never really _his_. It never had his name on it, never etched in the gold plate at the bottom, to show the world that Dean Ambrose was  the undisputed WWE World Heavyweight Champion. But the time to reflect on his career and what the future held was not now.

Dean snapped out of his daze, his eyes refocusing away from his thoughts and onto the road ahead. It was then that he noticed a tall, dark figure standing directly in the middle of the road and he had little time to react before they came right up on it.

"Dean, look out!"

It was a man, they realized now, but in Dean's hasty attempt to avoid a collision, he lost control of the car and everything went black.


	2. Morality Bites

Dean was guilty of huffing gas a time or two in his life. He wasn't proud of it, not unlike most stupid things he'd done as a kid, but it was just something to do to pass the time. Like smoking a cigarette or having a beer. Kids shouldn't have been doing that either but it's not like he had the greatest supervision in the world to stop him. Some of the other kids his age did take it a lot more seriously than he ever did but just a few whiffs of the stuff back then never really did him any permanent damage. Not near as much as some of the things he'd put into his body later on in life at least.

Now, however, the intense aroma of gasoline was anything but pleasing. Not only did it smell foul but it was burning his eyes, his nose, and for some reason even the side of his face. That's when he realized he was laying in a pool of it.

Pain spread across his cheek as he lifted his face away from the dry, desert dirt. It was barely noticeable at first but the burning quickly became searing the further he raised his head. It only subsided when he relaxed his face back onto the ground but on the opposite cheek this time.

Dean lay still for a moment. He was dipping in and out of unconsciousness, aware only of the heavy scent of fuel overloading his senses and the dull pain that ached in parts of his body he had yet to identify. He coughed a few times, his body rejecting the taste of the gasoline that had somehow entered his mouth, causing bits of dirt and dust to curl up from underneath him. That only made him cough harder.

His eyes were the last of his senses to finally start functioning.

Sunlight blinded him as his lids drifted open. The sun was high now and the desert's sweltering heat made it all the more obvious it was no longer early morning. Once his vision finally cleared, he avoided the blinding sun by resting his eyes just ahead of where he was facing. It was there he noticed more gasoline — a trail of it — leading straight towards him. His gaze followed the path backwards until it fell on the source of the fuel, dripping slowly down onto the dry desert ground.

Its source, Dean finally realized, was their rental car and it was currently flipped on its side.

He gripped the ground with his fingers and pushed himself upward, ignoring the pain that shot all through his body. So much for just his cheek hurting. He staggered to his feet, but was able to catch his balance, and from his quick inspection he concluded that he wasn't seriously hurt. Judging by the current position of the car he knew he could've fared a lot worse.

He moved closer towards the vehicle now, treading lightly over the bits and pieces of glass that littered the earth below him. The windshield was still in tact and it was only upon closer inspection that he realized it was the driver seat window that had completely shattered underneath the weight of the car. He placed a steady hand on the edge of the passenger side door and peered inside to survey the damage. Dust swirled around from a sudden gust of wind and it wasn't until it settled that he noticed the mess of blonde curls at the bottom of the vehicle. On one side, they had been soaked a crimson red.

He placed two desperate hands on the glass of the windshield as the realization set in.

"Renee!" he screamed but she failed to respond, even when he began to bang relentlessly on the glass. The crack that had formed on it from the accident was now getting bigger by the second and the ninth time his fist connected with the windshield it burst into pieces.

Dean ignored the blistering pain that spread throughout his hand and knelt onto the ground beside Renee. The sight of the blood on her head was unsettling but she didn't look to be much more hurt than that. He placed his other hand gently over her chest and relaxed at the sensation of her breathing. She was still alive. But now he was tasked with a bigger problem: pulling her out of there without hurting her.

He sat back on his heels before standing up completely. Her seat belt was still attached so he needed to get that removed before he could pull her to safety. But when he peered back inside the car he could see that the center console was smashed in and there was no way he could get inside it to check for any tools to help. He knelt back down and decided to just yank on the belt as hard as he could but it didn't snap. His fingers on his injured hand just gave up under the pressure. But he didn't care. He waited for a moment before trying again and though it took a couple of attempts, the fabric eventually ripped in two.

Now he was back to his original problem. Getting her all the way out.

"Is she alright?" said a voice from behind Dean and he whipped around to face whomever it belonged to.

"You..." Dean's voice faltered as he scanned over the man standing in front of him. He was an older man, probably a good ten or fifteen older than Dean himself. He looked about as ragged as he did too. It took a moment for his brain to process but he knew he recognized him. Even though he'd only caught a glimpse before he blacked out he knew it was the man in the road earlier. He considered giving the guy a piece of his mind but instead he turned his attention back to Renee. Yet not before demanding help from the stranger. "Help me get her out!"

The man obliged, clutching Renee's shoulders while Dean climbed into the car to take hold of her legs. But when they began their attempt to ease her out, she wouldn't budge. They tried a few more times but for some reason her left leg wasn't cooperating with the rest of her body. Dean muttered under his breath when his gaze fell on the obstacle. It was her knee and it was torqued underneath the dashboard.

"Try moving the seat back."

Dean was already reaching his hand behind the passenger seat when the man gave him the suggestion, feeling in the dark for the handle. His fingers finally found the tip and the man held onto Renee while Dean pressed it backwards. The seat slid back with a jolt and finally her knee was free. Taking hold of her legs again while the man moved back to her shoulders, they lifted her slowly and slid her out, dragging her away from her vehicular prison.

"This is my fault," said the stranger. Dean only agreed with him.

"Why the fuck were you just standing in the road like that?" he spat, but the man made no effort to answer him. "You trying to get yourself killed?"

When he still didn't respond, Dean flung two dismissive hands at him and lowered himself to the ground next to Renee. He cradled her into his lap, rubbing circles around the gash that lined the side of her temple. It wasn't bleeding anymore — and probably hadn't been for quite a while — but it was possible that she had a concussion. It was especially worrying that she still hadn't shown any signs of life other than quiet breathing, even when they forcefully removed her from the car.

Dean shook her gently a few times but there was no change.

"I gotta call the police," he said, looking up at the stranger. But he offered no solution. He barely offered any remorse for causing all of this mess in the first place. Looking back in the car from his vantage point, he tried to see if he could spot either one of their phones but he couldn't. They probably wouldn't work anyway after the accident. He looked back up at the man and had little choice but to ask, "You got a phone?"

"No," the man said slowly, "I hate cell phones."

"Sounds familiar," Renee no doubt would've quipped if she wasn't out cold. But she was and Dean had no way of helping her.

Every cuss word Dean had ever learned flew out of his mouth. They were probably hours from a hospital and he had no idea which way to go if one did happen to be close. He wasn't above carrying her if he had to but that wasn't very convenient. The dry desert air would probably only make her condition worse. He was still in pain too so he probably wouldn't last very long carrying her weight on top of his own anyway.

"My car broke down."

A few more choice words were about to come out of Dean's mouth in response to the stranger's cluelessness but he was interrupted by Renee coughing into his chest. He placed a hand on her back, lifting her up further to allow the air to flow through her lungs, and she soon calmed from the shock. She managed to crack a smile as she opened her eyes and saw him staring back at her.

Dean buried his face into her neck as relief washed over him.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Ren," he murmured into her hair, "don't you ever scare me like that again!"

Renee wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he pulled her closer. She didn't know what was going on but she could see the car flipped behind them and when she pulled back to look at Dean, the evidence of the accident was all over his face. "You're bleeding," she said, her voice hoarse from inhaling the desert air. She tried clearing it with a few more dry coughs but she knew she needed water for true relief.

He tucked a few strands of her blood stained hair behind her ear. "So are you."

That side of her head was pounding, she knew that. But it didn't hurt nearly as much as her knee did. Shifting in his lap, she brought her right leg toward her and winced loudly as it began to throb. She reached towards the crux of the pain but found that Dean's hand was already there, inspecting the wound himself. Her jeans were ripped right where the pain in her knee was throbbing. She sighed at the sight of her ruined pants. For once they weren't actually made that way.

"Your leg was stuck under the dashboard but I got you out. It's just a bruise," said Dean, both of them thankful that it wasn't something more serious. "Come on."

He tightened his grip around her, propping himself up on his knees and then standing all the way up once he found his footing. Once sure Renee was fine, he lowered her to the ground and helped her find balance of her own. Her leg was going to give her a bit of trouble but it was nothing she couldn't handle, she assured him. He was still more worried about her possible concussion than anything else now.

Dean turned back to survey the car. It didn't look to be in too bad of a shape but there was a chance it was just wishful thinking on his part. If only he could get it back on all fours, maybe it would run long enough to get them home. Or if nothing else, out of the middle of nowhere.

He looked back at the stranger who was still standing there, just watching them in silence. He didn't want to ask but he needed the kind of help Renee couldn't give him. "Can you give me a hand with this?"

The stranger once again obliged and the two positioned themselves in front of the wrecked vehicle. Dean crouched to the ground while the man kept his grip on the top and with no small amount of struggle, they managed to push it back into its original position. The driver's side door was completely smashed in so there was a chance he wouldn't be able to drive it after all.

The engine, though, was the ultimate deciding factor.

Dean let the car settle for a minute before propping open the hood. The man moved beside him.

"Do you know anything about cars?"

"Few things," Dean answered him, fiddling with the engine until he was satisfied. "Doesn't look too bad. I think we're good."

The hood closed with a thump and Dean patted the top of it as if to say 'good girl.' He'd ridden in quite a few crappy rental cars over the course of his career but this was by far the best one. He had no doubts now that it could get him and Renee home.

The stranger glanced back at his own car, a few hundred feet down the road. "Maybe you could figure out what's wrong with mine."

Dean eyed him for a moment, unsure if he wanted to do anything other than hop back in the rental and drive off. But for whatever reason he placated the man and followed him back to his vehicle. Renee stayed behind, searching through their own for anything that wasn't damaged in the accident.

There wasn't much. Dean's phone had been completely smashed by the impact. Hers managed to still work when she pressed the side button but the cracks that lined the screen made it far too difficult to see through. All that was visible was a distorted version of the time and the battery bar notifying her that it was still fully charged. But when she attempted a call, nothing happened. There was no signal.

Renee shoved the phone into her pocket anyway and climbed into the passenger seat.

"The transmission's out," Dean sighed, after several long minutes of double and triple checking the man's engine for any problems, "There's nothing I can do. Sorry."

Like every other time Dean spoke to the man, he didn't respond. He just stood there with the same empty look on his face and in his eyes. That same look was the last thing Dean saw before he lost control of the car and woke up in the middle of this clusterfuck. He sighed when the man still said nothing and headed back to the rental. It was time to head home. Finally.

Dean had to enter the car through the passenger side but that was a small price to pray for the car still functioning. The driver's side was a little cramped and he had to make sure nothing under the wheel was ruined but when he put the key into the ignition, the engine sputtered to life. So that was good enough for him.

"You okay?" he asked Renee again and she insisted that she was fine. He even offered her a trip to the hospital if he could find one but still she refused. All either of them wanted to do was go home and forget the day ever happened. So, he promised her, that was what they were going to do.

Suddenly, a hand appeared on the sill of Dean's missing window and then quickly retracted itself, tiny shards of the broken glass sticking up and stinging the skin. It was him, again, and he made no apologies for startling either of them.

"How about a ride?"

Dean eyed him once again but he had no intentions of placating him this time. "I don't think so, buddy."

"Dean, we almost hit him..." said Renee, shooting him a worrying look. The least they could've done after that was give him a ride. Especially after he had just helped them as much as he did. But Dean ignored her, pressing his foot down onto the gas pedal. "Dean!" she gasped as the car sped off, leaving the stranger literally in the dust. "I can't believe you did that!"

"What?" he asked but she just continued shaking her head. He didn't understand why she was so mad. The guy was clearly not right in the head and the last thing he was going to do was let him into the car with them. The accident was enough commotion for one day. "Renee, the bastard almost got you killed!"

"He needs help."

Dean shrugged, angering Renee even more by his complete lack of empathy in regards to the situation. "Dude'll get someone out there to fix it."

"You don't know that. He could be stranded for who knows how long!"

"That's not our problem!"

Silence blanketed the air inside the car. That was usually how their screaming matches went anyway. He would end up yelling the loudest and she would just sit in silence, pouting. It always made him feel bad afterward and he wondered if that was done on purpose on her part. He refused to apologize this time though. He promised her he would get her home and distractions would only serve to delay that vow.

Renee would never admit it to Dean but apart of her felt like he may have been right. But that didn't matter. How mad would he have been if they were the ones on the side of the road needing help, being completely ignored by anyone who passed by? He definitely would've been cursing the world and everyone in it for being uncaring pricks. But she knew it was different for them. They could have been easily recognized and trusted for what little fame being on television brought them. On the flip side, no one wanted to pick up a creepy looking man. Still, no matter how much she tried to look at it his way, she kept coming back to the same conclusion:

"You're such an asshole."


	3. Bad Karma

**Author's Note:** As you'll notice during this chapter (if you've seen the movie), I named the hitchhiker after the main protagonist, Jim Halsey. (Oh, the irony!) I just thought it would be a nice callback to the movie. T̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶I̶ ̶c̶o̶u̶l̶d̶n̶'̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶n̶k̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶a̶n̶ ̶o̶r̶i̶g̶i̶n̶a̶l̶ ̶n̶a̶m̶e̶ ̶m̶y̶s̶e̶l̶f̶.̶ ̶W̶h̶o̶o̶p̶s̶.̶

 **A/N PS:** This chapter's a little short because it was originally apart of the last one. I just split them since I felt like it flowed better, I guess? Next chapter will definitely be longer and it's where things are really going to pick up!

 **A/N PPS:** Thanks for all the love. It warms my soul.

* * *

The car ride had been silent for the last two and a half hours. Not even as much as a sigh had passed Renee's lips and Dean made no effort to drown the tension out with the radio, though the chances it worked following the accident were pretty much zero anyway. Neither of them could even tell if the other was mad anymore but they also never bothered to ask. They were both convinced they were right and they both refused to apologize to the other. So the silence remained.

It was broken about an hour later by a relieved Renee hopping out of the car as it rolled to a stop. Finally they had reached a gas station. Most of the gasoline in the tank had leaked out after the crash and they were lucky the car made it this far without running out of fuel. Renee, however, was less concerned with that and more concerned with her incredibly full bladder and her incredibly empty stomach.

Dean followed her limping lead into the building, but she stopped short of walking all the way inside. To their left was a big shelf covered in donuts, cakes, and other sweets and her mouth was practically watering as she looked over them all. _So much for having to pee first_ , Dean grinned to himself and then grabbed a few from the rack. She took the first out of his hands so he picked up another and then she took that one too.

He wasn't sure if it was healthy for them to just act like a fight never happened instead of talking it out but that was fine with him. Talking things out usually meant another argument and he was ready to just forget it all ever happened and move on. Besides, the smile on her face right now wasn't worth rehashing something as stupid as an argument over the morality of helping out a creepy stranger so he decided to just let it go.

"Dean Ambrose, that's Dean Ambrose, you're Dean Ambrose."

Dean looked back at the counter where the cashier standing behind it was mumbling incoherently to himself. He sighed. He loved his fans but he wasn't in the mood for this. The cashier didn't seem to care because he started shoving papers into his face and telling him how he was his favorite wrestler.

Renee just watched in amusement.

"Thanks, buddy," Dean sighed again, signing his name onto one of the crumpled pieces of paper. The cashier didn't say anything else, disappearing back behind the counter and mumbling to himself again. _What's with the fucking weirdos around here?_ he thought to himself, answering his own question by shaking his head. Once he went back to grabbing more snacks from the rack, Renee went right back to stealing them from him.

Dean was just about to protest her fourth snack theft when he noticed her eyes were now fixated outside. He turned back and glanced out the window of the shop where they could see a large diesel truck had pulled into the parking lot. The stranger from earlier was stepping out of it.

"Dean," Renee said, piling the snacks she stole from him back into his arms, "It's him."

His stomach churned. This wasn't good. He couldn't imagine the stranger was particularly happy with him for just abandoning him on the side of the road so the last thing he wanted to do was run into him again. He glanced over his shoulder for a back exit but was disappointed to find there was none. He was just as disappointed when he turned back around to see his girlfriend now approaching the stranger as he entered the gas station.

"Hi, I just wanted to apologize about earlier. You know, the accident? We were just kind of in shock...," she was saying before he had a chance to stop her. But the worst was yet to come. "If you still need a ride somewhere, we can help you out. I mean, it's the least we can do."

A smile crept across the stranger's face as he said, "I'd like that."

Dean was livid. He tried to interject but nothing but silence escaped his mouth. He wasn't sure he was even capable of making a noise at this point anyway. Anything he said probably would have came out so high pitched that only dogs would've heard it so he simply just stood there as his face turned redder and redder by the second.

"My name's Jim Halsey," the man continued, finally taking the opportunity to introduce himself.

"I'm Renee and that's Dean." She pointed back at her boyfriend but neither of them paid attention to him — or his increasing anger. "Maybe we can call a tow truck for your car or something?"

"No phones here," the cashier from earlier said, making no apologies for eavesdropping on the conversation. "There's a mechanic about an hour out. They can get someone out there to fix your car, I reckon."

Jim smiled. "I reckon I'll do that."

To Dean's relief, Renee's bladder finally got the better of her and she disappeared into the back of the station in search of a bathroom. At least she was away from that asshole now. But he wasn't sure how he was going to get out of the predicament she'd gotten them into. He couldn't just take back the offer. Actually he could've but even he wasn't _that_ rude.

Jim was approaching him now and Dean had to resist every urge in his body to evade him once more. "How's your car doing?"

Dean glanced back at his rental for a moment and shrugged. "She'll be good to go once I get some gas in her," he replied but cursed himself silently after doing so. The lack of gas could've been his out but now he had to find a different excuse to deny the man help again.

"Tough little thing ya got there."

Dean shrugged again. "It's not mine. It's just a rental."

"I wasn't talking about the car."

Dean clenched his jaw, pressing his tongue against the back of his teeth. Pain seared along his knuckles as he squeezed his injured hand into a fist but that was the only thing stopping him from connecting it with the man's bottom lip. He'd punched guys for a lot less, after all. But he knew he couldn't cause a scene in the middle of the gas station. The cashier was a babbling idiot but he would still call the cops in a heartbeat. Renee would never forgive him for that.

Dean mumbled something under his breath that should have resembled an "excuse me" — which sounded more like a whole lot of cursing — and then made a beeline for the bathroom. Renee pulled him inside before he could start yelling at her through the door.

"Don't!" she told him and then turned back around to face the mirror. She'd managed to clean the blood off the side of her head but now the crimson stain patch of hair had become a light shade of pink. The Natalya comparisons never made more sense at that moment. She almost wanted to take a selfie and send it to her fellow Canadian friend but the screen on her phone was busted, she had no signal, and Dean was still trying to argue with her.

"Look, I don't trust this guy, Ren!"

"You don't trust any guy! Ever!"

Renee was facing him now, tending to his wounds even in the midst of an argument. He flinched when the roughness of the toilet paper slid over the cut on his cheek but after a few strokes she was finished cleaning it and started to work on the wound on his hand. That stung a hell of a lot more, especially when she started picking tiny shards of glass out of it.

"We can't just ignore him after he helped us out," she continued, "It's just bad karma, you know?"

Dean sighed at his girlfriend's naivety. Did his never ending scary movie marathons teach her nothing? The number one rule was to never pick up a hitchhiker. Or maybe the number one rule was never have sex. He couldn't quite remember. Dean sighed again, annoyed by the mental argument he was now having with himself.

"Do you remember the girl they picked up in Texas Chainsaw Massacre?" he asked her as she finished wiping the dried blood from his knuckles, "She pulled a fucking gun out of her vag and blew her own brains out!"

 _Thanks for the imagery_ , Renee thought to herself. It was bad enough watching it the first time and now he was reminding her of it. But she could see right through him and she refused to let his cheap scare tactics work. Moving towards the exit, she yanked the bathroom door open and passed an expectant glance over her shoulder. He knew that look. That was it. She was done with this conversation and she was getting her way.

"It's not going to kill you to give him a ride, Dean," Renee said, holding the door open behind her. Dean just cursed again to himself and followed her out of the bathroom.


End file.
